


Serpent in The Garden

by jedjubeed



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Year Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Aziraphale is an artist at a tattoo shop, Crowley opens up a plant shop, Human AU, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, That was a joke - Freeform, Will update tags as chapters come out, flower shop/tattoo parlor, there will be other background ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-07-31 01:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20106751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedjubeed/pseuds/jedjubeed
Summary: One wouldn't consider Aziraphale's profession, upon meeting him. Clearly he had a quaint, quiet little job. He did, to an extent - but that all depends on how "quaint" one would consider tattooing to be.Crowley, a man who very much looks like he should have Aziraphale's job, opens up a plant shop next door. The two men discover each other, and discover plenty about themselves.(Flower shop/tattoo shop AU)





	1. Black Wing Tattoo

Upon meeting Aziraphale Amans, one would never really consider or question his profession. He was a man who wore bowties, sweater vests, a lot of formal button-downs in casual settings (always completed by a cream-colored overcoat and vest). Clearly he had a quaint little job somewhere where he could read lots of books and drink tea with lots of cream.

Which was partially true, anyway - he owned his own bookshop. He didn’t sell too many books, due to not being open very often. That was kind of the point, though, he really just wanted a place to put his books, and an excuse to call himself a business owner. The bookshop was Aziraphale’s second job. His first job (which was usually an uppercut of information) was as a tattoo artist at Black Wing Tattoo. He always wore clothing conservative enough to hide his tattoos in public, and the style of dress was nothing similar to what one would think of when they thought “tattoo artist”. 

He’d been at the shop for a few years. By no means the oldest worker, but certainly not new - it was the second shop he’d worked, and by far his favorite. The staff were far nicer than where he took his apprenticeship. 

Being an artist out of Soho, he got to watch as other shops in the area came up and went down. Lots of bakeries, cafes, restaurants, and various assorted trinket shops had a high turnover rate if they couldn’t keep their heads above water, and the valuable property meant it was hard to get in, and even harder to defend the territory. Black Wing was an established store that had no problem paying bills, and Aziraphale was thankful for that bit of job security. Just recently he’d watched a little bakery come in and swoop up a small property one door down down from the tattoo shop, only to be overtaken by the rent deficit a few months later. The building, other shopkeepers always said (always jokingly), was most likely cursed.

It was a little sad, Aziraphale thought sometimes, that some of these companies would run in the red the entire time they’d had their doors open. It always happened with the most promising of shops, too. 

On a Tuesday morning Aziraphale walked the short few blocks to work, whistling a little tune to himself that he made up as he went. Aziraphale might be under the impression that people gave the man in a gingham bowtie and what could be arguably considered a three-piece head into a tattoo shop, but the truth was, nobody really gave a flying fuck what you did in Soho. If anything, Aziraphale fit right in with the crowd. He waved and smiled at their secretary as he hung his coat up on the rack, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up over his elbow.

“Anything on for today?” he asked, helping himself to a cup of tea.

“Your first appointment is at 11:30, arm piece. Slow day, today,” the secretary responded. Slow days were most boring indeed, and he wished he’d brought a book.

-

First impressions were misleading. Anthony Crowley managed to snatch up a piece of… well, somewhat prime real estate in Soho. Then again, all real estate in Soho was prime real estate. It was a tiny little shop located on a busy street with a sign that’d been painted over probably 20 times, smack in between a Starbucks and a tattoo parlour. It was _interesting_ real estate, that’s for sure. 

He didn’t need anything big or extravagant. He needed floor space, a cash counter, and lighting. This building hit the mark on all of those things. He bought the building on a Thursday, spent all weekend cleaning it up and getting it how he wanted, anticipating to open the doors within just a few weeks (opening a store was much more work than he anticipated, he found). 

He had no clue what the building was beforehand, but the smell of flour led him to believe it had something to do with baked goods. Who the fuck opens up a bakery right next to a Starbucks? No wonder they went under so quick. 

But, Anthony had what not a lot of other business owners in the area had. 

He had a willingness to be manipulative, a passion for creativity, and a fat bank account he sat back and inherited and did nothing for besides pay the tax on. Not nearly a trust find, mind - just the remnants of a life insurance policy and his name in a will.

Some secrets are better left unspoken.

On Tuesday, Anthony set to scope out the businesses around him. He didn’t think he’d have any competition, but he did want to see what he’d be sharing the revenue with.

Starbucks was self explanatory. He didn’t need to stick around after he got his coffee.

The tattoo shop was certainly interesting. Anthony already had some ink - a small serpent on his sideburn, and a small pair of wings on his back (with a flaming motif, because he’s cheesy like that), but he wasn’t necessarily “tatted up” per se. Both his tattoos were small, so he could experience the least amount of blood or pain or laying in cramped positions as possible. Maybe he could get another somewhere. 

When he walked in, there was a woman sitting at the front desk, tapping away on the computer, her pixie-short blonde hair swept up into curls resting atop her head. Another woman sat in the seating area, long dark hair resting around her, floor-length skirts positioned around her legs. They both seemed… relatively correct in the environment. The man sitting across from her, reading an old book (with vintage readers), gingham shirt with sleeves rolled up, and a quarter vest certainly did not look very correct. Anthony could bet none of these people looked to be in the proper environment, anyway.

The woman at the desk looked up when Anthony walked in, and smiled.

“Do you have an appointment, sir?”

“Uh, no,” Anthony said. “Just looking around. I’ve actually just started renting the store next door, I’m just visiting my neighbors.” The two people in the sitting area gave each other a look. Anthony supposed they were waiting, but he didn’t know if they were customers. The man wearing the bowtie stood and took his glasses off, heading over with a smile.

“Well, it was only a matter of time until somebody snatched that building up, eh? Welcome to Soho, dear boy!” The man absolutely grinned as he offered a hand out. Anthony shook it, sufficiently confused.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m Crowley, by the way.” The man shook his hand, and let go.

“I’m Aziraphale, an artist here at Black Wing. Anathema over there works with me - Michael is our lovely secretary. We do hope you have luck with your….?”

“Plant shop.” Aziraphale almost gave a look something along the lines of ‘nobody here expected you to say plant shop and we all anticipated direct competition of some sort given how tight those black skinny jeans are’, but Aziraphale supposed he was also a black sheep in the industry, so he only smiled.

“Oh, that’s so lovely, we’ve always needed something to spruce up the street. I’m certainly looking forward to your opening day, Crowley.” Aziraphale grinned, his joy brighter than the sun. Crowley thought he would have gone blind if he wasn’t wearing sunglasses.

It was blinding, he supposed, just in a way that isn't harmful. Crowley thought Aziraphale’s blue eyes shone with light brighter than any star. He thought the man was, quite frankly, beautiful. 

But that meant nothing. Crowley thought stars, and the moon, and plants were beautiful. Thinking a man wearing a bowtie and a gingham shirt and a quarter vest to be beautiful is hardly meaningful in any way whatsoever.

Crowley nodded, and gave a little smile. 

“Might stop by and see how this shop holds up. Looks like a nice place, anyway, if you’re able to keep the doors open - been meaning to get another piece done, anyway.” 

“Oh, that’d be just lovely, I can see the piece on your face is well taken care of.” Aziraphale tilted his body a bit so he could get a good look at it. “Some people’s skin on the face is far too thin to hold color very well- when did you get this done? It looks almost fresh!” Crowley grinned a bit sheepishly, in the way anybody would if somebody was doting on something about you.

“This? I got this- uh, let’s see… 10 years ago? That sounds right, yeah. I was still young. I had long hair back then, so I could cover it up.” Aziraphale grinned again. Crowley noticed he had near perfect teeth.

_”Brilliant._ A good tattoo is only half the responsibility of the artist, I’m sure you know - aftercare is very important for getting good color.” Aziraphale stepped back to face Crowley again instead of looking at the side of his face. “Well, I certainly wish you and your new business luck. It’s hard opening businesses here, and we’re all delighted to have a fresh face around here!” Aziraphale clapped Crowley on the shoulder.

“‘Course. Well, I best be off - the shop still smells like yeast, and I’ve got lighting to install before I move any inventory in.” Crowley waved as he made for the door, casting a (hopefully not obvious) lingering gaze to Aziraphale. “Ciao.”

Once the doorbell chimed, signaling Crowley had left, Anathema looked up.

“Not even going to tell him it’s cursed, huh?”

“He- doesn’t need to know! If he doesn’t know about it, maybe nothing will happen.” Aziraphale huffed, and made to sit back down with his book and wait for 11:30.

“You all are too superstitious,” Michael said. Anathema decided not to mention how delighted Aziraphale seemed to talk to Crowley.


	2. Demon Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley comes in with a business inquiry. He'll be back, soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so, so much for the overwhelming feedback I've gotten on this first chapter! It means a ton.

Crowley had dropped into Black Wing a week later, deciding he did, in fact, want to get another piece done. That was all he had planned, however. He supposed he’d just improvise this one and work with the artist so they both could have some fun. He had a vague idea, anyhow. 

The bell above the door rang as he stepped inside. It wasn’t busy (never was), and he could see Aziraphale sitting in that waiting area, alone. Crowley walked up to the desk where the secretary (Michael) sat, leaning one arm on it.

“You guys take walk-in consultations?” he asked. Michael looked up at him once she clicked something up.

“We do. Aziraphale is open right now, and he will be until noon today. He can take you back for your consultation,” she said.

Aziraphale had perked up and looked over when he heard his name, standing up to head over and meet them at the counter.

“Crowley! So glad you decided to drop in, come with me,” Aziraphale greeted before heading off to the back. Crowley followed, and then followed him into one of the rooms back there where he had all his equipment set up. They sat in the corner, and Aziraphale grabbed a sketchpad before he sat.

“I’m going to be honest, I have no clue what I want, so I’m going to take my life in my hands and say artist’s interpretation,” Crowley explained as he sat down across from Aziraphale, spreading himself out.

“Well, let’s go over practical things before we get to that, then. Area, size, what have you.”

Crowley gestured to his left arm. “I think I’m going to pull the trigger on a half-sleeve, see how I feel about it. Shoulder to elbow.”

Aziraphale nodded, crossing a leg over so he could set his sketchbook in his lap and sketch some things out.

“Quite a bold move, but I suppose we have to start somewhere, don’t we?”

“I figured I was finally ready to surrender my dreams of working an office job,” Crowley joked, and they both had a chuckle. 

“Did you have any kind of theme in mind? Just to get some ideas out that I can wrestle around with.”

“Religious imagery. Think, like, French renaissance.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a look, and Crowley waved his hand.

“Forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, but that doesn’t seem like something you’d be interested in,” Aziraphale said.

“Well, the Bible isn’t all roses and sunshine,” Crowley grinned as he spoke, “let’s highlight some of those darker themes.”

Aziraphale nodded at that, narrowing his eyes down at his sketchpad as he sketched some things out. 

“Are you religious?” Aziraphale asked as he sketched. Crowley supposed this was a great excuse to get to know the man - they’d be spending plenty of time together, after all.

“I wouldn’t say I’m religious, no. I believe in God, but I’m not Christian or Catholic. I don’t think God is vengeful, or benevolent, I think God just… is. God is above evil versus good, Heaven versus Hell. Things happen, they happen for a reason, and if those things are bad, that’s just how it is,” Crowley explained. Aziraphale nodded.

“I think that’s a very wise way of looking at things. I was raised Christian - devout, orthodox, church twice a week - and I think the way you describe God is probably more accurate to the way the Old Testament describes it,” Aziraphale responded. 

“Created man in His image, and all. You still go to church?” 

“Oh, Heavens no,” Aziraphale chuckled a bit, shaking his head, “once you grow up with something and then take a step back from it, you start to see how ridiculous it is.”

Crowley just shrugged. He’d never been to church - he could count on one hand how many times he’d ever been inside a church. It totalled to 3 times.

Just then, Aziraphale turned the sketch pad over, and handed it to Crowley.

“Obviously just some concepts to play with - the idea of light and dark, what have you,” Aziraphale said.

It was the Garden of Eden - a lush, green tree surrounded by gorgeous foliage, a black and red serpent making itself apparent, draped over the branches. The red belly on the serpent was more of a copper when compared to the centerpiece - a blood-red apple right at the epicenter of the piece. 

Instead of Eve reaching out for the apple, it was the classic Renaissance depiction of an angel, on the opposite side to the serpent. It was the juxtaposition of light and dark, good and evil, the angel being tempted into knowledge by the serpent. 

“If you’d like to change anything, or if - God forbid - you hate it, just let me know,” Aziraphale added, cheerful.

“No, I- this is beautiful. I love it,” Crowley responded, handing the book back.

“Oh, lovely! I figured you’d like something to do with the plant-y things, what with your new shop and all,” Aziraphale beamed, and it was blinding. Hewas the physical embodiment of light, in that moment. 

Crowley thought he was beautiful in the same thing a flower or a painting was beautiful. Everybody thought they were beautiful. It was just a fact. 

They talked about the business end of things - sizing, price, appointments, all the stuff that wasn’t particularly riveting. They decided Crowley would come back the following week for his first appointment, seeing as it’d take a while (and a couple sessions).

Crowley was quiet for that week of limbo. 

Aziraphale walked past his up and coming business every day, and saw it improving more and more each day. Halfway through the week he got shelves up, and nearing the end, he started on the storefront. 

The sign on the front was bold, and dark. It grabbed your attention and it didn’t let go. The sign was black, with a bright apple tree standing out. 

_The Garden_ was inscripted in block lettering, the fresh paint a shimmering gold.

Aziraphale took a moment to admire the freshly finished sign on his way into work. He whistled a tune as he headed in, going to get all of his equipment set up. 

It’d been a long time since Aziraphale was able to do a big piece like that - usually his demographic of clients consisted of fresh 18 year old girls asking for “just, like, a little tiny peace sign on my ankle”.

The work took 5 minutes and they all sat horribly. 

He was very excited to do this piece for Crowley. It was going to be colorful, and there was going to be contrast, and it was going to be big. He figured it’d take two or three sessions, depending on this guy’s pain tolerance. 

Considering he had a tattoo on his sideburn, he figured Crowley could probably handle a little bit. 

He was in on time, and Aziraphale was out waiting for him. Aziraphale took him back, and sat him down.

“Ready to get a go on?” Aziraphale said, readying the templates he’d gotten all cut out.

“Absolutely. Need me to take my shirt off for this?” Crowley responded, getting comfortable.

“Yes, that’d be peachy. I could close the door, if it makes you more comfortable,” Aziraphale said over his shoulder.

Crowley simply shrugged, taking his jacket off and pulling his shirt with it. They both ended up in his lap.

“Oh, I’ve done this all before, not the first random bloke to see me half-naked. Could imagine you’re comfortable enough, working as a tattoo artist in Soho,” Crowley joked. 

Aziraphale chuckled, turning to start applying the templates. 

“I haven’t seen things as bad as others - it’s been slow, recently, anyway. But yes, I suppose it does involve a bit more nudity than some would expect,” he said, moving to pick Crowley’s arm up to get his shoulder.

“What’s the longest you’ve ever worked on a piece?” Crowley shifted a bit so Aziraphale could reach all the places he needed to, making himself comfortable.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said, “in terms of amount of sessions, I had a bloke in here last year who came back five times! He couldn’t sit for more than a few hours a day, he’d just get so sick and fidgety,” he talked as he got the machine on, pulling his inks over.

“Sounds terrible,” Crowley glanced over as the buzzing clicked on, getting his phone out.

“Quite a nuisance, but I did get paid for my time,” Aziraphale said, getting closer, “are you quite ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Crowley responded. Aziraphale nodded and got started on his work, and Crowley scrolled through stuff on his phone. 

They had some more light conversation, mostly about the general public and working in public service jobs. 

As they bantered back and forth, the time seemed to slip away. Aziraphale got quite a bit of work done, but Crowley got a bit fidgety around the 5 hour mark. 

“Might have to take a quick break,” Crowley said, trying not to move his arm. He knew it was annoying to be moving around, so he restrained himself the best he could. 

“We could stop for the day,” Aziraphale wiped off the last bit of ink, pulling away. “We could just wrap this up and revisit it tomorrow.”

“That would be lovely, actually, my spine is starting to kill.” Crowley sat up straight, looking down at what had already been done. It was definitely unfinished, and would take hours more, but it looked beautiful thus far. 

Aziraphale stood to get the roll of plastic, starting it around Crowley’s arm.

“Right, I’m sure you know the drill. Spray it down with saline solution, keep it wrapped, and we’ll pick up tomorrow. If there’s blood, that’s normal.”

“Thanks a ton. I’ll be in at 1 tomorrow, I’ve got some inventory coming in the morning so I can’t be in early.” Once Aziraphale was done wrapping, Crowley sat up, pulling his shirt back on. 

The two walked out together, and bid goodbye in the front room. Crowley left as he put his jacket on, and Aziraphale’s gaze lingered.

“Hm,” Michael said, from the receptionist desk.

“He’ll be back tomorrow for his next session,” Aziraphale said.

“How was the first date?” Anathema said, from her spot on a seat.

“I’ll let you know on the occasion,” Aziraphale retorted, heading over to join her. “What makes you think either of us are romantically inclined?”

“Oh,” Anathema said, not looking up from the magazine she was thumbing through, “just a feeling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my twitter (@bitch_ohmygod) for updates on this story, and the other series I'm working on!


	3. It's Complicated

For the sake of a lack of repetition, which tends to get quite repetitive, it’s been a week since Crowley opened up shop. It was a lot of work, tending to the plants he had out on the floor (he had most of them in a warehouse by order), making sure nobody touched them too roughly or ruined them. It was honestly more like being a babysitter than he ever could have imagined.

But, that’s Soho for you.

His tattoo took 3 full sessions, and his last one was three days before he opened up his doors. He left with a wink at Aziraphale as he paid, saying he should swing by sometime. He didn’t actually expect the artist to show up, he was probably more busy for the spring season as things warmed up and teenagers wanted to show off inked skin.

Two hours after he opened, the bell above his door rang.

“Welcome to The Garden, let me know if there’s anything I can help you with,” Crowley said on cue, currently working on pruning a very large orchid. 

“Oh, Crowley, this place is just _marvelous,_” Aziraphale said quite wistfully as he looked around at all the plants on the floor. The shop was small, so the selection was simply a broad and vague tasting of everything Crowley offered. Crowley turned to look over his shoulder, smiling a bit when he saw the blond.

“Oh, Aziraphale, how nice to see you pop by. What are you up to?” Crowley straightened up and dropped his pruning knife into his apron, the gloves following. 

“Just stopping by to wish you luck, of course! Opening week and all, must be a big change! I hope business is going well, yes?” Aziraphale gingerly lifted a frond of a Majesty Palm, watching joyously as all the leaves fluttered back into place. 

“Splendidly, so far. I expect once I get some more stock in the warehouse and a bigger website, this’ll take off splendidly. How’s the season picking up for you? One would expect a lot more appointments this time of year.” Crowley stepped over to Aziraphale, now within proper conversational distance, amused as Aziraphale played with the plant.

“Well, it is. I’ve found myself with a bit of free time, and figured I’d pay a visit! How lucky you weren’t busy either. I decided to wait for a while, I thought you’d be absolutely swamped for the first few days and wouldn’t have any time for socializing.” Aziraphale looked up from the fern to Crowley’s face. His eyes were cunning, and they captured him every time their eyes made contact. He didn’t know of anybody else who could do that to him. 

“Kind of a slow morning. How much time do you have off? Maybe we could grab a coffee… or, something.” It was a weak attempt. Crowley backed off a bit halfway through his request (which really did have a lot of conviction in the beginning, but just managed to run out of steam.) This didn’t seem to bother Aziraphale, who lit up like a nonspecific tree during a wintertime celebration of non-denominational origin.

“That’d be quite tidy! I’ve got about an hour off, and there’s quite a nice coffee place down the way - and no, it is not a Starbucks.”

“Oh, joy. Hey, wasn’t the business before this a coffee joint?” Crowley followed Aziraphale’s lead toward the door, quickly hanging up his apron and swapping it for a coat, not forgetting to switch the sign to ‘closed’. 

“A bakery, actually. Just couldn’t compete with a franchise, I’m afraid. Before that I believe it was some type of eyeglass store? This building tends to change hands quite frequently,” Aziraphale said as they walked out onto the street, looking up in time to catch Crowley’s incredulous eyebrow cock- “of course, I’m sure it’ll do well in the right hands,” he quickly added.

Crowley just chuckled a bit, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, and offered the pack out to Aziraphale. To Crowley’s surprise, he took one, and Crowley lit it for him (a tricky endeavour since they were both walking). He managed not to burn Aziraphale’s face, so he considered it a success.

“Well, hopefully it’ll settle on a botanical. I can’t exactly afford this business to go under, what with how bloody expensive it was in the first place,” Crowley said with a little laugh.

“I’m sure it’ll do fine. Some of the other businesses are convinced that property is haunted, but I think it’s just got to do with bad businesskeeping. Not much you can do if your business is rotten, after all.”

“They think it’s _cursed?”_

“Yes, and I really think it’s all quite a load of-” Aziraphale was cut off by Crowley’s laugh, and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

“Oh, how cute. I’ll have to _sage_ the place next if I want to keep my security deposit!” Aziraphale concluded it was a good laugh, and he could laugh along with him. It was quite interesting, figuring Crowley out. 

The place they got coffee at was quite nice. It was a little hole in the wall, but Aziraphale insisted it was quite a lovely place, so Crowley couldn’t complain. They sat outside, Aziraphale ordered a hot chocolate, and Crowley got an espresso. It really was quite lovely, especially with the weather cooperating and all. 

Halfway through their little not-date, Aziraphale studied Crowley’s face a bit.

“So where are you from, Crowley? Have you always been around London?” he said, sipping at his drink once he’d finished his question.

“Not forever, no. I grew up in Glasgow, but I haven’t been back there in a while. I’ve been in London for quite a while now, I went to university here and just… stayed. Worked at a dead-end agency for a while, and then started my own business here.” 

“Oh, Glasgow! I never would have guessed, you sound almost like a native Londoner,” Aziraphale joked.

“You don’t need to worry, I lost the patter halfway through university. Unless I find a reason to go back, in which case you probably won’t be able to understand a word I’m saying.” The two had a chuckle, and Crowley finished off his coffee and pushed it to the side.

“You’ll have to warn me beforehand, wouldn’t want to startle me with all that gibberish.”

“I will, of course,” Crowley said, “so where are you from? Been in London your whole life?”

“No, I grew up outside of Cardiff, actually. Small town. I moved to London for my apprenticeship, years ago.” Aziraphale smiled fondly. “It was so long ago now, I was still quite young. I’ve been here ever since,” he said. 

“Yeah, really, London will let just about anybody in, and Soho seems to just bar the regular people,” Crowley chuffed.

“Oh, yes, of course. Isn’t it such a lovely place, though?” 

“Yeah, can’t complain-” Crowley was cut off by Aziraphale hurriedly standing up once he’d checked the time.

“Oh, dear, it’s almost noon already, I’m afraid I’ve got to go back to work,” Aziraphale said, pushing his chair under. Crowley just shrugged and put down some cash to cover the bill.

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, standing up to accompany the other.

“How sweet of you, Crowley.” Aziraphale smiled at the other. The walk wasn’t really that long, just a block or so away, and they walked in comfortable silence. 

They reached Black Wing first, and Crowley lingered a bit outside the door as they both stopped.

“I had a lovely time,” Aziraphale said.

“Any time you’ve got a long break, just ring me up.” Crowley smiled a bit, glancing inside the shop. 

Before he knew it, Aziraphale leaned up and kissed the side of his face. Yknow, the European kiss thing. Crowley was a bit stunned, his face blushing red. 

Aziraphale smiled, waved, and headed inside. Crowley waved back, and headed down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went with scottish crowley and then decided i was just gonna pull the trigger and make aziraphale welsh to defend my choice of his use of the word "tidy".
> 
> Follow me on twitter to get updates of this story, and of my series! (@bitch_ohmygod) Hope to see you there!

**Author's Note:**

> I certainly hope you enjoy! I'll be posting chapters every now and then. This first chapter is far shorter than the other chapters I'll be posting, I'm just getting a feel for the story and how it's received.


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